No One Would Listen
by RilkaGreenRider
Summary: How might the story have changed, if the one man who saw Meg's truth hadn't ignored her pain? A plot bunny that grew from the way Raoul said "Miss Giry" in the filmed version of LND after Meg's song about the cleansing power of the sea. Rated T for mentions of Meg's history. Includes mention of a character from the book.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and post only for my own enjoyment. I make no profit from this storytelling.

AN: It's been many years since I've written anything, but Love Never Dies drew me in. Despite so many people's opinions, I actually really enjoyed the filmed version. Perhaps I'm cynical, but the actions of the characters didn't seem out of the realm of possibility. I did wonder what would have happened if Raoul hadn't been so easily distracted in the bar. He seemed to understand what Meg was really saying, but was distracted by her mention of Christine. I wondered what would have happened if he'd been a little more persistent, and the Phantom had overheard a bit more. While I've only ever posted one-shots, I do have about 1.5 more chapters written that need tweaking. And yes, I stole the title from the cut song from the movie version of Phantom of the Opera.

AN Edit: The first two chapters have been edited as of September 2018. I have trouble believing it's been a year since I wrote this, but it was not forgotten.

\- No One Would Listen -

"It's hard to keep your conscience clean." Raoul looked over at Meg Giry and recognized the look in her eyes. He'd seen it in a hundred poor girls leaving the offices of the powerful and rich. Hell, before his debts became public knowledge those girls had been flirting with him. Not that he'd ever partaken, of course. That had been back when love flowed so easily in his marriage. When he could all-too-easily imagine those girls as Christine if he'd not found her again. As Meg had become. Compassion forced him to his feet and he reached for her hand, interrupting Meg's ramblings on the cleansing power of the sea.

"Miss Giry, you could have been so much more." Meg ceased speaking abruptly. If Raoul hadn't seen the agony on her face just a few moments ago, he would never have suspected the pleasant, innocent smile to be a mask. The little ballerina proved a quite accomplished actress. What could she have accomplished if that _thing_ had never interfered with the opera?

"I don't know what you mean. I'm almost to the top." Unbidden images of another pretty prima ballerina with dreams of a better life flashed before Raoul's eyes. Philippe's mistress from so long ago whom Raoul had last seen as a lifeless body pulled from the Seine. After the events of _that night_ , the poor girl found herself without a position and without a protector. Guilt tried to rise, but Raoul bore no responsibility to his brother's mistress. Still Raoul feared he saw the same sort of hopelessness building in his dear wife's oldest friend that he had seen in Phillipe's mistress's eyes the night Raoul refused to become her new protector.

"I think we both know what I mean, Miss Giry." Raoul dropped Meg's hand to retrieve his drink. "Does _he_ know about the... work … you do on his behalf?" Meg flinched and wrapped her arms around herself. An obvious and yet, unwilling denial. What was it about that monster that drew these women to it? Even Madame Giry had a strange sort of loyalty to it.

"Once the Master sees me as a leading lady, he'll see. He'll see that I am all he needs." Meg's words rang with the conviction of an oft-repeated mantra. Pity warred with contempt within Raoul for the obsession in her voice. He lifted his drink and sipped. He felt just relaxed enough that the foul fiend's presence in this town did not bother him. It wasn't as though that monster was truly a rival any longer. After all didn't Christine choose Raoul ten years ago? That should be enough for the Vicomte; why couldn't he stop the drinking and be the hero his sweet Christine needed? Raoul deliberately set the glass on the bar. Perhaps saving Meg from herself would be a start on the path to becoming the hero again.

"Have you thought about what will happen at the concert? If he hears Christine sing again, she'll be lost. There's more to this than you know, I've seen it!" A flood of anxiety for Christine swept aside any further thought of Meg's predicament.

"What do you mean?"

"Take her away. There's a ship that sails tomorrow at noon. Take your family and be gone from here or he'll never let her go!" Meg tried to flee, but Raoul grabbed her hand. For just a moment her eyes locked on his but the great hero's drunken mind failed to find the words. She yanked her hand out of his and fled the bar. Raoul chased after her, shouting the first thought that came to mind to draw her back in.

"He's not Mephistopheles you know!" Raoul stalked back to his seat. Bravado rose in the absence of the object of fear. "He's just another circus freak. I'm not afraid of him."

The Vicomte slapped his hand on the bar to get the bartender's attention. He picked up the forgotten glass and scoffed. "A freak who lets an innocent girl like Meg Giry pay his debts with the powers of the town. Who could fear a creature so helpless he needs to hide behind a prostitute's skirts?"

Focused on his drink, Raoul didn't see the bartender flinch and freeze momentarily. The glass emptied, Raoul slammed it down. The bartender spun around, white mask gleaming in the soft light of the bar. Fear Raoul would never admit forced him to leap back from the bar. For a moment the pair stared at each other in mutual contempt.

"No, it can't be."

"Not afraid of me you say?"


	2. Chapter 2

Adrenaline from the confrontation still racing through his blood caused Erik to open the door to Madame Giry's office with more force than he'd intended. It had taken considerable discipline to focus on dealing with that drunken fool instead of examining the truth of the Vicomte's assessment of Meg. Now he had a few moments of time to deal with it and the accusation would not stop repeating as a dissonant chord ruining the music in his mind. Erik stalked past the desk to the shelves and pulled down the accounting books. These were supposed to be twins to the books in his room, updated weekly by Madame Giry for his perusal. The man known to Madame Giry only as the Opera Ghost had never revealed his true history to her, nor his private holdings. Sometimes he wondered if the aging ballet instructor had actually begun to believe her own fantasy of discovering him in the circus as a child.

Madame Giry had tied her fortunes to his, for better or for worse in those dark days. She'd been a widow with a young daughter to raise and few prospects. Even the truly talented dancers struggle for a position once past their prime, let alone a dancer who'd left the theater for a respectable marriage. She'd come to the Opera for a position as the concierge on the recommendation of an old friend. Erik had discovered the very young Meg dancing alone in the wings, long after she should have been in bed. Deciding that a passion for art should be rewarded, Erik tested Madam Giry's ambitions for her daughter. He asked for small favors and left a note suggesting he could turn Meg into an empress. Through the months she earned his trust by performing those favors without hesitation. Erik arranged for Madame Giry to rise a few places in the theatre after he discovered her gift for choreography. A few unfortunate accidents and a suggestive note to the manager had sufficed to oust the former choreographer.

Madam Giry proved her own cunning in using the theatre gossip to magnify her own importance. As the rescuer of the Ghost rather than the servant, Madame Giry could claim more power in front of the opera's denizens than she truly owned. Erik allowed her tales to spread as the story she contrived to garner sympathy for OG had proven useful in many ways. She'd confirmed his existence, creating more fear and excitement among the performers. Little Meg had been protected from the less civilized among the crew by their fear of the Ghost's Lasso. The Daroga had been thrown off-track, arriving in Paris too late to affect the outcome of his disastrous rampage. Raoul had underestimated his abilities and been caught in his traps. Here on Coney Island his 'secret history' added to the mystery of his show and drew performers seeking understanding.

The slight scuff of a boot and a small breath informed him of the presence of Fleck. The lack of the thump of a cane proved Madame Giry did not accompany her. "Mister Y, if you are seeking Madame Giry, she is overseeing the final preparations for tonight's performance."

The aerialist's voice carried no fear or awe, and Erik took a moment to muse on the strangeness of that lack. Having Christine and Raoul here again had brought back the old memories of the Opera, when he played the fearsome Opera Ghost. Here he was respected without the accompanying fear. He lived as openly as he desired at Phantasma, even able to go out onto the streets without hiding beneath a cloak. He lived as a man and not a shadow. Even his time in Persia had not been as free as here on Coney Island.

"No, Mistress Fleck, I am not seeking Madame Giry. Do not inform her I was here." Erik took empty ledgers from the storage cabinet and filled in the bookshelves. While it would not fool the manager long, with the performance tonight Madame Giry would not bother about the books until morning. He turned to see a strange look upon Fleck's face. As one of the three original members of Phantasma other than the Parisians, Mistress Fleck knew the master much better than some others and had always been one of his informants regarding the personal lives of the cast. While he'd never asked about Meg or Madame Giry, assuming he knew them well enough, Mistress Fleck may have some new knowledge he'd overlooked.

"Follow me." Erik left the office and took the public stairs to his own rooms, the footsteps following behind a confirmation of Mistress Fleck's obedience. Despite needing to prepare for the performance, Fleck took advantage of the rare opportunity to see the Master's domain. Only a few were allowed access to his offices other than Madame Giry. Every time she was allowed, Mistress Fleck took the opportunity to try and learn more about her mysterious employer. The quiet thump of the ledgers dropping onto the organ bench pulled her attention back to the master.

"What do you know of Meg's life outside Phantasma?" Mistress Fleck thought for a moment. Fleck knew better than to believe the rumors spread by the rest of the cast about his omnipotence, so his question did not completely surprise her. Most of the cast felt Mister Y knew everything about everyone and would have been shocked to be asked. While no one ever saw Mister Y do anything other than compose and give orders, every performer had found small things or comforts added to his or her room. Things they didn't ask for but dearly cherished, like the photograph of Millie's secret daughter who was being raised by relatives out west. Or Samuel the fiddler's heirloom pocket watch which had been sold the month before he arrived at Phantasma, but mysteriously showed up under his pillow. Most of Phantasma was incredibly loyal to the Master, but Meg took it to an extreme. She desperately sought the Master's attention and it was clear to the rest that the Master favored her though Meg herself never seemed to notice.

"Meg doesn't have a life outside of Phantasma. Other than her daily swims and her weekly banking errands she spends all her time here practicing, Master. She aims for perfection, but never feels like she achieves it." She didn't tell him that Meg was desperate for his attention. The master was a genius – surely he already knew of Meg's fixation. Fleck watched as Mister Y chose one ledger from the group he'd taken from Madame Giry's office and took it to the table. He looked over at her, pale mask gleaming slightly in the soft light.

"Thank you, Mistress Fleck. I am sure you have much to do with the opening this evening." She nodded and left the office as Erik pulled down his copy of the first ledger of Phantasma. Meg should not have been involved in banking at all, let alone weekly banking errands. After the first month in Coney Island Erik had set up access to his accounts and had taken over the banking duties entirely. Madame Giry's responsibility ended when she copied the accounts onto Erik's private books and deposited the cash into his safe.

The first pages of the ledgers showed exactly what should be. More debt than funds to pay for it and creditor accounts. Then the differences started to show up. Credits with a small M next to them, in amounts that shouldn't have existed with the mark of certain creditors as well. Those credits continued all through the end of the first ledger. Some credits appeared to be for taxes, permits, or fees while others appeared to correlate to the newspaper advertisements. None of the credits or original amounts appeared in Erik's ledgers, only the adjusted sums. It seemed the drunken fool spoke truth in the bar.

Innocent Meg sold more than her dancing, and on his behalf. Or so she thought. Small wonder the vendors had been willing to agree to his terms without his usual intimidation tactics. He'd thought America to be different, but it was no different than France or Persia. Every little crumb has a price. Perhaps he should have been less secretive about his true wealth when Madame Giry asked, instead of merely informing her he would cover any debts they incurred. Did the woman truly think he built his home beneath the opera house on a beggar's income? Even his salary from the managers did not cover the quality of the furnishings as well as his life's necessities. He may have been an embarrassment to his mother but he had still been the legal heir to a respectable family fortune, and his genius had only increased it over the years.

The Phantom of the Paris Opera put away his ledgers. Perhaps it was time to make good on his promise to Madame Giry, and turn Meg into an empress. He had dowry enough set aside for Meg, now he only needed a suitable man. Erik would have to take care of it next week. With everything riding on Christine's performance this evening, he could not concentrate on the task well enough to do it justice. He needed to find a way to prevent Raoul from convincing Christine to walk away. He paused a moment as an idea slowly developed. With his new knowledge of Meg's contributions to the show, the little bits of odd behavior she'd displayed began to weave together in a tragic requiem. Erik let the notes play in his mind for a few moments to find the pattern. Perhaps the hero could be of some use after all. The thrill of rescuing the diva in distress could easily distract the fool long enough for Erik to steal Christine's heart completely. Rising to his feet, the master of Phantasma used the hidden passageways to make his preparations.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hearts may get broken, love endures." The orchestra swelled as Raoul's future crumbled before him. He'd been so sure that Christine would choose him once more. How could he have been so blind? Hearts may get broken indeed. Raoul turned and walked away. Sober for the first time in years and yet he felt as though he walked through a haze. Raoul walked out of the wings and along the passageway to the dressing rooms. Upon entering his wife's dressing room, Raoul paused and looked around. This dressing room would have easily fit in their Parisian home. The rest of the stage area and rooms favored bold, flashy colors and gaudy décor reminiscent of the Paris Opera. This small, simple, elegant dressing room stood out. It was Christine's favored style, both light and golden. A room designed by a man in love, not a monster.

Raoul had begun the night with no intention of honoring his wager with his rival. Their son deserved a life with both of his parents. Now as he stood in this room designed for his wife, the Vicomte finally acknowledged the possibility that Gustave had never known his true father. His son, his only heir, with the head full of music that only Christine understood. Christine's precious Gustave who showed no interest in any of Raoul's passions. His son, born nine months after their wedding day. Not premature, despite the gossiping old hens attempting to imply it when his marriage happened so quickly after the disaster at the theatre, so he'd never had a doubt. The way Christine had been so hesitant in speaking her vows and kept glancing at the guests, almost as though expecting someone to object. He'd dismissed her hesitations as nerves, but perhaps she'd been awaiting _him_ even then.

Raoul sighed and reached into his pocket for the letter he'd written earlier. Originally meant to throw the monster off-track as they escaped, the words releasing Christine into the arms of her "Angel" now proved to be the truth. He set the note on the dressing table and rested the rose he'd purchased on top. The bit of scarlet in the room should pull her attention directly to his message.

As he walked down the passageways to the rear exit, Raoul nodded to one of the freaks that seemed to be watching him. A flash caught his attention from inside another dressing room. He glanced inside the room, then froze. The room was destroyed and the mirror smashed. The room was set up for a single person and not a group. It must have been Meg's dressing room as the leading lady. Dear God! One of the stage hands had directed Gustave to stand with Meg during the performance. What if…? The thought trailed off in horror. Adrenaline poured into his system as he fled for the dockside bar he'd visited so recently. The bartender seemed familiar with Meg. Surely he'd know where she took her swims.

-,-'- -`-,- -,-'- -`-,-

"Diamonds never sparkle bright if they aren't set just rig-" "Miss Giry!" Erik spun, eyes spitting fire. He'd almost had the girl completely entranced until that fool shouted. The Vicomte raced up and onto the bridge, passing Christine and Gustave without even looking at them.

"Please Miss Giry, don't do this." His gaze locked onto the poor girl. His voice dropped into the soothing tones he'd used when comforting Christine on a rooftop in another lifetime. "Don't throw your life away for his sake!"

The trembling in her hand continued but the weapon slipped a bit further away from her head. Raoul took another few steps forward, barely registering the way he pushed the masked man to the side. As he spoke, he eased himself closer to the desperate woman.

"They don't understand. The ones who shine so brightly. Oh they claim to see us – even to love us. But we are never their priority, are we?" Now within reach, the Vicomte stopped. One of his hands raised towards Meg.

"I did everything he asked. I begged for his attention. I gave everything!" The words came out as sobs. Her free arm wrapped around her midsection in self-soothing-hug.

"I did too. I gave her safety from her fears. I gave her my heart. And when that wasn't enough I gave her my anger, my rage, my pain. All the ugliness I found within myself I threw at her hoping she'd look at me long enough to see me clearly." The enraged snarl from the disfigured composer was ignored as memories flashed through Raoul's mind. He's hated how Christine kept part of herself aloof from him, even though he didn't understand it. He'd taken that anger out on Christine. Usually verbally but occasionally physically. His sweet wife had never spoken out against him or truly stood up to him. She'd accepted the ugly and continued to look for the good man he'd once been. Perhaps that is why it was so easy for the diva to accept the monster.

"Yes. I give everything to be seen." The hand holding the pistol dropped as Meg's broken whisper escaped. Raoul reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders. He felt the shivers beneath his hands and slowly drew her close. For a moment the hero was tempted to offer to protect the damsel. _No more talk of darkness._ No. This was not an innocent ingénue, and he was not a young man dashing in to save the day. They were all old enough now to see the shades of gray in life.

Slowly he slid his hand down Meg's arm until the pistol was in his own hand. He pictured using it to kill the fiend responsible for all of this. Would that help any of them?

"This won't help, Miss Giry. The eternal torment of a damned soul is not cool or clean or kind." Raoul turned, expecting her fingers to slip easily from the weapon as he raised it toward the Phantom. A loud bang shocked them all as the gun fired. Meg shrieked and raced past them all into the arms of her mother. Christine clutched Gustave tight, searching for wounds and praying there were none. Only the masked man stood unconcerned.

"You foolish boy. Did you really think I would leave an armed pistol in easy reach, knowing about Meg's…difficulties?" Arrogance dripped from the words like poison. Dimly Raoul noted Madame Giry attempt to flee with her daughter, only to be blocked by the same freaks that had picked his family up when they first arrived in America.

"What?"

"The pistol carried only the harmless blanks we use on the stage, not true ammunition. Though it was worth it, I must say, to see your true colors show through at last, Vicomte." Behind the black shape of the monster Raoul had hated for so long, Christine was staring at Raoul. For the first time, Raoul saw no tenderness in her eyes. Just fear and sorrow and shock staring back at him while she held Gustave with one arm. From this angle he could only see the monster's unmarked face, but the resemblance between that clean profile and the young boy next to him was unmistakable. Raoul's heart finally shattered. Even through the performance he'd held onto hope that if he could just save Meg, be the hero again, that Christine would change her mind and choose him. The way her hand gripped that arrogant bastard's arm proved him wrong. Without another word, the Vicomte stalked past the trio.

As he approached the Giry's, Raoul pulled his tickets for the Atlantic Queen from his pocket. He showed them to the women. "I have passage for three to Schönberg. Would you care to accompany me away from this…place? I think we could all use a new start."

AN: I have one more chapter planned and then this story will be complete. I will do my best to get the final chapter uploaded before another year has passed.


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